


Dead Man Walking

by DNAchemLia



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Horror, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNAchemLia/pseuds/DNAchemLia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's dead stays dead...or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecookiemomma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/gifts).



> Written for the NCIS Titular Challenge and as a hangman prize fic for thecookiemomma. Yeah, I know, took me long enough…
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

**“ _Whatever happens, death is not the end.”_**

_~_ Lucien Celine _, The Serpent and the Rainbow_

_ **Prologue** _

 

It was a beautiful autumn day.

 

Tony DiNozzo took a moment to enjoy the sights and smells that the day brought with it as he climbed out of his car. He had just parked it in front of McGee’s building, part of his plan for their first Saturday off in a month. He intended to rouse the younger man from whatever geekery he would undoubtedly be engaged in and convince him to join Tony on a trip into the mountains to take in the fall splendor. McGee’s car was still in its parking spot, and he could see a light on in one of the windows of his apartment, so he knew his partner was home and this wasn’t a completely wasted trip.

 

As he walked towards the building, Tony reflected on the week they had both had, certainly one of the strangest in a while. It had started with the usual dead body, but that was the end of normalcy. Finally, by Friday, they had to admit that the case wasn’t going anywhere: no suspects, no leads, no real evidence, not even a clear cause of death for said dead body. Gibbs had been beyond frustrated, that was clear—and frankly, not that unusual—but eventually he had declared they needed to sleep on it and come back fresh on Monday.

 

Tony had agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment.

 

He entered the building and climbed the stairs to McGee’s floor, already planning his spiel to get McGee to agree to the trip. The younger man had been a bit off all week, even though he had claimed nothing was wrong, but Tony had sensed that this case had disturbed him more than usual. Tony planned to use the trip to get McGee to open up a little so Tony could help him deal with whatever it was that was bothering him.

 

Tony reached McGee’s apartment and knocked loudly, expecting a grumpy reply from within before McGee would open the door and reluctantly let him in. He was surprised when the apartment remained silent, and knocked again, louder this time.

 

Nothing.

 

After checking the hallway for signs of possible witnesses to uninvited entry, Tony pulled out the spare key to McGee’s apartment and unlocked the door before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

 

“Rise and shine, McGee,” he called out, expecting to see McGee stumble from his bedroom in response, but the man failed to appear. The apartment was silent, and an uneasy feeling began to creep into Tony’s gut.

 

“McGee? Tim? Are you here?”  

 

He started to walk towards McGee’s bedroom and had made it to the door when he froze at the sight in front of him. McGee was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, silent and unmoving.

 

“McGee!”

 

Tony immediately pulled out his cell phone and called for an ambulance as he crouched down and grabbed McGee’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. McGee’s eyes were open, wide and unseeing, and Tony’s heart leapt into his throat.

 

“Oh, God…”

 

Tony put his finger’s against McGee’s throat, searching for a pulse. Nothing. He pressed harder, hoping that he’d find something, weak but still there. Please, still there…

 

Nothing.

 

_“Emergency services, how may I direct your call?”_

Tony barely heard the voice as it asked again, his attention fixed on the still form of his partner. He desperately checked him over, trying to detect any sign of life, and finally came to one horrible conclusion.

 

Tim McGee was dead.

 

TBC…

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

_***five days earlier*** _

"Gear up. Body at Quantico."

Tony automatically grabbed his knapsack and hurried after Gibbs as the lead agent strode towards the elevator. He didn't even have to look to know his partner and the newest member of the team were right behind him.

"What happened, Boss?"

"Someone tried to get in the front gate without ID. Guards shot him."

"Civilian?" McGee asked, his face pinched with worry.

"That's what we're going to find out."

"Great. Press will have field day with this one," Tony muttered and Ellie send him a questioning look.

"Why? The guards were just doing their job."

"One thing you learn on this job, Bishop: the Press is _not_ your friend."

"I used to work for the NSA, Tony. I already _knew_ that."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Are you two done?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Good. DiNozzo, McGee, take the truck. Bishop, you're with me."

"On it."

After making sure the tank was full, Tony handed McGee the keys and they headed for Quantico.

As expected, the Press was already out in full force and it took a bit of maneuvering the get past them and close to the group of Marines guarding the scene. Someone had set up screens to block the view of the scene from the expected gathering of rubberneckers, a small measure of relief for the team. Finally they were able to view the body and received a rather unpleasant surprise.

"I thought you said he'd been shot, Boss," Tony question as he got his first look at the unmarked body and the lack of blood surrounding it.

Gibbs signaled to one of the Marine guards and when he joined the team Gibbs asked him the same question.

"No, sir, I'm sorry, that was a miscommunication. We threatened to shoot him if he didn't stop and identify himself, but he collapsed before anyone got a shot off."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

The guard shifted uneasily before replying. "We noticed a man acting...off. He was wandering around across the street, looking around like he didn't really know where he was. We thought he might be homeless, or on something, or both, and we were ready to call in the local police to come pick him up when he started walking towards the gate. We called out a warning and the order to stop and he just...dropped like a stone. By the time we got to him he didn't have a pulse and wasn't breathing." He glanced at the body. "It was...I never saw anything like it."

"Have you seen him before?" Gibbs asked, and the guard shook his head.

"No, sir. I've been on duty here for the past month. He's never passed by, or through."

"Alright corporal. As you were."

"Yes, sir." The guard returned to his station just as Ducky and Palmer arrived at the scene.

"I thought this man had been shot," Ducky exclaimed as caught his first glimpse of the body.

"Bad intel. Apparently he dropped dead before they could shoot him. What can you tell me?"

Ducky started his examination. The dead man was gaunt, with dark skin stretched tight over high cheekbones, and his long, matted black hair was shot through with grey. His face, head, and neck bore no obvious signs of trauma, but he had the overall appearance of someone who had been forced into a rough existence. His clothing was worn and dirty and his callused hands displayed the hallmarks of hard labor.

After checking what he could without disturbing anything, Ducky started to search through the man's clothing, letting out a small exclamation of surprise when he opened the man's shirt.

"He's wearing dog tags. Maurice Saintilaire, USN. We'll need to confirm that. Timothy?" McGee didn't respond, and they all turned to see him staring at the body, a clear expression of shock on his face.

"McGee? You know this guy?" Gibbs asked and it took McGee a moment to answer as he shook his head.

"No, Boss. Sorry, the name sounded familiar, but this couldn't be the same person. He's been dead for almost twenty years." He pulled the fingerprint scanner from his bag and carefully placed the dead man's thumb on the screen. "Huh. Not in the system. Must not be his tags." He sounded relieved.

"We'll have to determine his ID later, then," Ducky offered as he continued to examine the body.

"Cause of death?"

"Not immediately apparent. Again, we'll know more once we get him back to Autopsy. Let's get him ready for transport, Mr. Palmer."

"Yes, Doctor."

"DiNozzo, Bishop, shoot and sketch. McGee, bag and tag."

"Boss, there's-"

"Not much, yeah I know. Track down the owner of those dog tags when you're done."

"Yes, Boss."

There was something in McGee's tone that caused them all to turn and look at him. He blushed slightly under the scrutiny and knelt next to his kit, checking the contents.

"Is there something you want to tell me, McGee?"

"No, Boss. Bag and tag. On it." He headed to the truck to retrieve the rest of the equipment as Gibbs turned to Tony.

"DiNozzo, when you're done…"

"Try to figure out why McGee just lied to you. On it, Boss."

XXX

_***present*** _

" _Sir? Sir? Are you still there? Do you need help?"_

Tony finally managed to tear his gaze away from the body of his teammate to answer the voice on the other end of the line. "No, I don't need help. Sorry." He ended the call and pressed the first number on speed dial.

" _Yeah, Gibbs."_

"Boss…" Tony's voice cracked on the first syllable and he took a deep breath, barely managing to pull himself together. "I'm at Tim's. You need to get here. Bring Ducky."

Gibbs remained silent for a few heartbeats before Tony heard a response.

" _What happened?"_

Tony let out a soft, watery chuckle. "I don't know, Boss. I stopped by his apartment to talk to him and...I just found him like this." Tony forced himself to look at McGee. "I don't see anything that could have… He's just...gone."

" _On my way."_

Tony slipped his phone back in his pocket and rubbed a shaking hand over his mouth. How had this happened? McGee had been fine when Tony saw him last night, albeit tired from working their usual hours. Tony knew there was more to his connection to the case than Tim had told them, but he had no idea why the younger man had been so reticent to tell what he knew.

"Damn it, Tim. What happened? Why couldn't you tell us?" Tony allowed his gaze to roam over the apartment, searching for some sign of what could have caused his partner's demise.

XXX

_***four days earlier*** _

Tony dashed out of the elevator and made it to his desk barely a few seconds before Gibbs walked into the bullpen.

"What do you got?" He barked, his glare directed at Tony.

"Ah, well, the neighborhood canvas didn't turn up anything. No one's seen our dead guy in the area before. I talked to the local bus drivers, but he was never a passenger. No record of him for any type of public transportation in the area."

"Bishop."

"Nothing so far on his prints or facial recognition. I checked Interpol, nothing, and I'm working my way through the law enforcement agencies in the Caribbean, South America and Africa. It's taking a while."

"McGee?"

"I checked the name and social security number on the dog tags, Boss. Maurice Saintilaire died in Haiti in 1996. He was a naturalized American citizen, came to this country with his parents in 1980. Both parents predeceased him. Apparently he was visiting other family when he died and they kept him in country, since he had no relatives left in the U.S. at the time."

"So how did our dead guy get his dog tags?"

"I'm still waiting to hear back from the authorities in Haiti. They've been trying to track down the family."

"Was he the guy you knew. McGee?"

"I didn't know him, Bishop. I...just heard the name from a friend. Saintilaire was his cousin."

"And where did you meet the cousin?"

"College," McGee replied, and once again Tony got the impression that there was more to it than McGee was willing to admit. He filed the thought away for later.

"How did Saintilaire die?"

"'Suddenly' is all the file said. Death certificate filled out by the local...coroner, I'd guess you'd call it, lists the cause of death as cardiac arrest. No autopsy. Apparently that's not so unusual for the region. It's pretty rural."

"All right, keep working on it."

"Yes, Boss."

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! I figured it out. I know who our dead guy is!" Abby dashed into the bullpen, waiving a printout. "And you'll never believe it. This is beyond hinky!"

"Who is he, Abbs?"

"Maurice Saintilaire."

"T-that's impossible!" McGee stammered, his face draining of color.

"Apparently not. Fingerprints don't lie, McGee."

"But they weren't on file. I double-checked."

"Electronic file, no. They were expunged from the database. I managed to get a hold of his paper files, and they're a dead-on match...no pun intended." Abby giggled, but her grin quickly faded under Gibbs' glare, a gaze which was soon turned on McGee.

"Boss, I'm just going by what the records said…"

"Someone screwed up. It happens. Better call them back."

"Yes, Boss." McGee quickly picked up his phone, dialed a number and tucked the receiver under his ear. He made a quick request and waited, typing frantically on his keyboard as he did so. Gibbs sent Tony a knowing look and he nodded. He'd have quite a bit to interrogate McGee about before this case was over.

XXX

* _ **present***_

Tony heard a knock on the door and checked his watch, a sad smile appearing on his face. Gibbs had made good time.

"Hey, Boss." He opened the door to allow the older man admittance.

"Where?"

Tony led Gibbs to the spot where McGee had fallen. "I rolled him over to check on him, but that's how I found him."

Gibbs knelt down next to the body of his agent, his gaze traveling over the figure with a practiced eye before he rubbed a rough hand over his face. "Damn it. No sign of-?"

"Nothing, Boss. No evidence that he took, ate, or drank anything here. Guess we'll have to figure out where else he was last night. You...you're thinking poison, or something like that, right? I mean, McGee is... _was_ healthy. He didn't look sick or anything yesterday."

"No, he didn't."

"You think this is related to our case? I mean...it looks like what happened to Saintilaire could have… But we don't what happened to him, either. Damn it…"

"Did you ever get him to tell you what was bothering him?"

"No. I tried asking a few times but he always clammed up or tried to brush it off. I thought I'd have more time to get him to open up, Boss."

"It's not your fault, Tony."

"Feels like it is. He...he was _my_ probie, Boss. I'm supposed to have his six, always."

Gibbs just shook his head and started to survey the apartment. "You find his phone?"

"No. I figured Ducky would be mad enough that I moved him, didn't want to disturb anything else looking for it. It's not anywhere else in the apartment, that I did check."

The two men did another search of the apartment but found nothing to indicate anyone besides McGee had been there recently. Gibbs said Ducky would be bringing the kits when he arrived with the van, but until then there was nothing they could do but wait.

Twenty minutes later another knock sounded on the door and Gibbs opened it to admit the M.E. He made his way over to McGee's body and sighed when he caught sight of the still figure.

"Was this the position in which you found him?"

"No, Ducky, I rolled him over to see if… To check him. That's all. We need to see if he has his phone on him, but figured we should wait…"

"Yes, that's understandable. I'll see what I can find. I've called Mr. Palmer and he will be here shortly." Ducky searched through Tim's pockets-the same clothes he'd been wearing the last time they had seen him-and soon retrieved his cell phone.

"Last number dialed?"

Tony accepted a pair of gloves from Ducky and slipped them on before taking the phone. He tapped a few keys and sighed. "Password protected. I guess we'll have to get Abby to… God. She's going to freak out."

"Perhaps she can be of additional assistance. I got the impression that something had disturbed Timothy about this case."

"And maybe he confided in her. Of course…"

Gibbs pulled out his own phone and pressed a number. "Abbs? Need you to come in today. I'll tell you when I see you. No, new case. OK. Thanks, Abbs. She'll meet us at the Yard," Gibbs explained as he ended the call.

"I don't envy you that conversation, Jethro." He returned to his examination as a rather timid series of knocks sounded on the door. "That must be Mr. Palmer." Tony opened the door to find Jimmy standing in the hallway.

"What happened? Is McGee…?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh, God...I didn't...I never expected…"

"None of us did, Palmer."

"Right. Sorry." He hurried over to help Ducky as the M.E. started to search through his bag. Gibbs and Tony moved further away, neither wanting to witness a more invasive examination. They started to unpack the second bag Ducky had brought with him but were interrupted by an angry voice.

"Mr. Palmer, how many times to I have to tell you, check the equipment before you put it away!"

"I-I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard, I thought I had checked it."

"What's wrong, Duck?"

"The liver probe is not working. I suspect a dead battery." He sighed. "We'll have to determine time of death by other means, then, back at Autopsy."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

"Finish the photos, then go retrieve the gurney."

Jimmy nodded and returned to his job while Tony and Gibbs did theirs. Soon Jimmy left and returned with the requested gurney, and he and Ducky began the unpleasant task of moving their friend and teammate into a body bag. Tony had to turn away while they zipped the bag shut,

surreptitiously taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Gibbs watching him with a sympathetic expression. Tony managed to meet Gibbs' gaze and nod, receiving a gentle squeeze on his shoulder in return.

After Ducky and Jimmy had moved the gurney out into the hallway, Tony turned to Gibbs.

"Now what?"

"We investigate, Tony. We find out what happened. For McGee."

"On it, Boss."

XXX

_***three days earlier*** _

"Ah, Jethro, I was wondering when I'd being seeing you. I understand Abigail has identified our John Doe."

"So she says. Anything to doubt that?"

Ducky chucked. "Of course not. I was able to request Saintilaire's medical records, and everything seems to check out. However, considerable time passed between his last records and now, and he is considerable worse for wear. However, I did not find anything that would negate an identification."

"So what killed him?"

"That, I'm afraid, is still a mystery. Abby is running a tox screen, but I was not able to give her anything that would hint as to what toxin might have been ingested. He shows no signs of intravenous drug use, nor any of the markers of smoking. His liver, while showing some signs of malnutrition, shows no evidence of disease. Nor do his kidneys or brain tissue. His heart stopped beating, obviously, but as to what caused it? We'll just have to wait and see."

"I hate waiting."

Ducky chuckled. "Yes, of that I am well aware. I assure you, as soon as we know something, you'll know."

"Thanks, Duck."

Gibbs left, and Ducky walked over to the wall of drawers, pulling one open and gazing down at the still, silent figure within.

"A bigger question is, why did everyone think you were already dead?"

XXX

_***present*** _

Unsurprisingly the drive back to the Yard was silent. Jimmy still seemed to be cowed by Ducky's earlier chastisement, or perhaps he was still reeling from the loss of a friend. In either case, Ducky didn't mind the quiet, even though his own thoughts were far from comforting.

Ducky had sincerely hoped that, before he retired, he would not have to deal with the odious task of performing a post-mortem examination on another one of his friends. He had done it far too many times already, and no matter what any of his old colleagues had declared, it _never_ got any easier. He suspected that this time it would be worse. To lose one so young, still in the prime of his life, it was a tragedy, one he would have gladly avoided given the choice. To make matters worse there was the fact that he didn't have an idea why Timothy had died so suddenly. He hoped he might be able to find the answer to that question. Not knowing was truly agonizing.

After they had backed the van into the loading dock, Ducky and Jimmy carefully unloaded the gurney and pushed it into Autopsy. They transferred the bag to one of the steel tables and as Ducky started to unzip the black shroud, he noticed that Jimmy was standing off to the side, an all-too-familiar expression on his face.

"Mr. Palmer?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I...I don't think I can do this. Not this time."

Ducky sighed. "I understand, Jimmy."

"It's just...he's my age, and…"

"You feel as though you've gotten a glimpse of your own mortality."

"Yeah...and he's...he was my friend."

"Understood. If you could just fetch the x-ray machine and set it up, I can finish this on my own."

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, lad."

Jimmy left to get the equipment while Ducky finished unzipping the bag. He had closed McGee's lids before they put him inside, the sight of Timothy's wide, dead eyes too disturbing even for him. A few minutes later Jimmy returned, seemingly in a calmer frame of mind, and helped Ducky to remove McGee from the bag and place him on the table. Jimmy started to set up the x-ray while Ducky began to prepare the body. They worked in silence, and soon Ducky had finished cutting away the clothing and placing it in evidence bags for further analysis. Jimmy helped him take x-rays of McGee's head, chest, and torso, saying very little as they worked. Finally he was ready to begin the external examination.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Palmer. You may go." Ducky picked up his camera and started to document the body. Still, Jimmy did not leave, holding the scale for the pictures and recording Ducky's commentary. He found nothing in the external exam that would account for death, which he hadn't really expected to find. With a sigh, he set the camera on the table and picked up a scalpel, steeling himself for the task ahead.

"Uh, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy's voice sounded strange, but Ducky dismissed it as his previously displayed anxiety returning.

"What is it, Mr. Palmer?"

"Dead bodies don't...they don't cry, do they?"

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

"What on Earth are you talking about, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky turned around and saw his assistant staring at the still form on the table. Jimmy looked up and met Ducky's angry gaze, his eyes wide with horror, before glancing back at McGee and shakily pointing at the man's face.

"Look!"

Ducky approached the table and gasped when he saw the clear liquid slowly trickling from McGee's eyes.

"What in the world?" As he watched, another drop spilled from the corner of McGee's eye and slowly started to make its way down the side of his face. "Mr. Palmer, get me my bag, quickly." Jimmy dashed off and Ducky carefully opened one of McGee's eyelids. Ducky had looked into the eyes of the dead more times than he cared to remember, that empty stare as familiar to him as breathing, but what he saw in McGee's eye was not what he was expecting. There was _something_ still there, he would swear to it.

Jimmy returned with the bag and Ducky grabbed his penlight, sweeping the beam over McGee's pupil. He saw just the barest hint of a contraction, but it _was_ there. He opened the other eye and repeated the action with similar results.

"Oh my Lord…"

"Doctor, what's going on?"

Ducky ignored Jimmy's question and dug around in his bag for his stethoscope. He quickly put the earpieces in place and placed the chest piece over McGee's heart, holding his breath as he listened. It was faint, but he heard the slow double-thump of a heartbeat, followed a couple of seconds later by another. He yanked the stethoscope from his ears and turned to Jimmy.

"Blankets, Jimmy, quickly, and the gurney. We need to get him to a hospital immediately."

"He...he's _alive_? How? I mean...I would have sworn-"

"Mr. Palmer!"

Jimmy ran to grab the requested items and Ducky leaned over McGee so he was looking directly into his eyes. "Timothy, if you can hear me, I am _so_ sorry. We're going to take care of you, I promise." He winced as he remembered how much worse this could have been. "This is not a mistake we should have made, Timothy. It's unconscionable." He saw another tear spill from McGee's eye. "You'll be alright. We will figure this out." He gently closed McGee's eyes, hoping to prevent at least some discomfort, while praying he would be able to keep the promise he had just made.

Jimmy stumbled back into the room, pushing the gurney as fast as he could. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"

"No, we can get him there faster at this point."

They quickly wrapped McGee in the blanket and carefully transferred him back to the gurney. Both men hastily pulled off their protective gear before they pushed the gurney out to the loading dock and into the M.E.'s van.

"Drive, Jimmy, I'll let them know we're coming."

"Doctor, how did this happen?" Jimmy asked as he guided the van towards the main gate. "I mean, he really looked…"

"I have a suspicion, but I'll wait for further testing to confirm it."

"You've seen something like this before?"

"Not personally, no, and I never expected to, especially not here." He sighed. "I should have noticed before, and made the connection. I will never forgive myself if…if Timothy can't recover from this."

"But he will. Won't he?"

"We can only hope, Mr. Palmer. Hope and pray."

XXX

_***three days earlier*** _

Tony returned to the bullpen after his mid afternoon coffee break to find McGee still at his desk, talking on the phone. It took Tony a moment to realize that McGee was not speaking English and he listened to the man's very precise and flat French, spoken in the same tone he used when explaining geek stuff to the idiots they dealt with on a daily basis. Tony grinned as he saw McGee roll his eyes.

"Oui, je vais attendre." McGee looked up at Tony. "Hey."

"Any luck?"

"No, they still haven't tracked down the family. Apparently it's not a ' _priorité_ '."

"A word of advice, McGee. If you want them to take you seriously, ya gotta sound more like a native and not like a textbook. It gives you more authority. Trust me on this one."

"Right…" His attention suddenly returned to the phone. "Yes. Oui, je suis encore ici…" He glanced up at Tony and then started to speak in a completely different tone, more like Gibbs on a bad day, and in a language Tony didn't immediately recognize. It sounded a little like French and Tim was speaking it much more rapidly, much to Tony's surprise. After a few exchanges, and what sounded like a lecture from McGee to the person on the other end, he ended the call, muttering a few things that Tony also couldn't translate, but didn't really need to understand the language to tell they they were probably pretty rude.

"They'll get back to us by tomorrow," McGee informed him and paused when he noticed Tony's expression. "What?"

"What language was that, McGee? Klingon?"

McGee snorted softly. "No. Haitian Creole."

"Where did you learn Haitian?"

"Summer abroad."

"You spent a summer abroad in Haiti? When? And why?"

"My roommate invited me to spend the summer with his family after my junior year at MIT."

"What did you do? Play with voodoo dolls?"

Tim shot him a dirty look. "We helped rebuild a school and a church damaged by a hurricane."

" _You_ did construction?"

"Is that relevant to our case?" Gibbs snapped as he passed the two men and sat down at his desk.

"No, Boss. Well, it might be. McGee spent some time in Haiti, and our Dead Man Walking is from-"

"I know that, DiNozzo."

"Which part?"

Gibbs sent him a glare before turning his attention to McGee.

"Someone will go speak from the family and get back to us tomorrow. From what I could tell, there's not many of them left, and they're pretty suspicious of the police in general, so getting them to tell us anything is going to be a challenge."

"It usually is," muttered Tony. "It that where you met Saintilaire's cousin? In Haiti?"

"No, I met him at MIT. He was my roommate."

"Could have mentioned that earlier, McGee."

"Didn't think it was relevant."

"So why can't you just call you old college buddy and ask him?"

McGee sighed. "Because he's dead, Tony. He was killed in the earthquake a few years ago." He looked up at Gibbs. "I did try to contact his sister, but I haven't heard back from her yet. She's out in the field for research and it's been hard to get a hold of her. I doubt she would know much, anyway. She hasn't lived in Haiti for years."

"Guess we'll find out."

"Did Abby figure out how Saintilaire died?"

"Not yet."

"Great…"

"Have _you_ figured out how Saintilaire wound up in Quantico, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss. Still checking ports of entry, but there's no official travel record under that name. We're checking possible aliases but it's taking awhile. Something tells me he didn't just hop on a plane to get here. More likely he was cargo."

"Keep looking."

"How far back, Boss? This guy supposedly died eighteen years ago. We have no idea when he came back to this country."

"Abby said he's been here less than a week. She analyzed the pollen on his clothes or something. That gives you a time frame."

"A week? That's...a lot better than we had before. On it, Boss."

"Get Bishop to help. Where is she?"

"Here, Gibbs. I was just...not important. I managed to track down an old crewmate of Saintilaire's. John Velling. He's coming in to talk to us at 1400."

"Good. I'll be in MTAC." Gibbs headed up the stairs and Tony turned to McGee, who was typing away on his keyboard, a worried look on his face.

"Anything you need to tell me, McGee? Sounds like you know more about this guy, or at least his family than you mentioned."

Tim groaned. "I already told you, I never met Saintilaire. Yes, I knew his cousins, but they didn't even really know him that well, since they grew up in different countries. I have no idea how or why he wound up in Quantico eighteen years after he was supposed to have died. I have no idea how he died this time. But I am _working_ to try and find out, OK?"

"Yeah, we all are, McGee. Which means we need to work as a team, sharing information."

"Tony...if I could tell you anything that was relevant to the case, I would."

"Promise?"

Tim just waved a hand in Tony's direction and returned his attention to his computer. Tony glanced at Ellie, who was staring at McGee in confusion, but she caught his gaze and hurriedly turned her attention to her computer screen. Twenty minutes later, McGee excused himself and headed for the restroom. As soon as he was out of sight, Ellie got up and hurried over to Tony's desk.

"What?"

"What's going on with Tim?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that, Tony, I can tell that something's bothering him. What is it?"

Tony sighed. "I don't know. Hopefully we'll get some down time so I can talk to him about it."

"Guess we better find something to make Gibbs happy then."

"Yeah. There's that."

XXX

_***present*** _

Tony followed Gibbs to Abby's lab, Tim's laptop and phone balanced on the top of the box of evidence he was carrying. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Abby's reaction to the news, but it beat returning to the empty bullpen.

"Hey Gibbs, Tony, what's going on?" Abby bounced over to greet them and paused, her smile fading when she saw Tony's expression. "You said it was a new case…"

"Abbs..."

Abby blanched at Gibbs' tone. "What happened?" She looked past him, clearly hoping to see someone else. "Where's McGee?" Her gaze traveled to the box Tony was carrying and stopped when she saw the phone. Tony plucked it from the top of the pile and handed it to her. She pressed the screen through the bag and froze when the image appeared. "This is Tim's." She looked up at Gibbs, her face now very pale.

"I'm sorry, Abby."

"No…"

Tony cleared his throat. "I went to Tim's place this morning and...found him. I'm so sorry, Abby."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, that's not possible, he was fine, I just saw him last night and he was fine!"

"When did you see him last, Abbs?" Gibbs' voice was surprisingly gentle.

"Before...before I left to go home. He came down to the lab, and...asked if I found anything more on the case. I told him I hadn't, and...he said he'd see me on Monday." He voice cracked on the final syllable as she turned and put her hands on the work table to keep herself upright.. "Gibbs, what happened? He was fine, I swear..."

"We don't know, Abbs, but we're going to find out. Can you help us?"

She took a deep breath and turned to face them, her eyes wet and red, and nodded. Gibbs pointed to the phone she still held in her hand.

"Last numbers dialed. Got it." She put on a pair of gloves and pulled the phone out of the evidence bag before tapping the screen and typing in a series of characters.

"You knew his password?" Abby nodded absently as she scrolled through the information.

"Last number received was a text from...N. Bourdain. International number." She turned to her computer and started typing rapidly. "From France." She checked the message. "Air France Flight 5431, DC, Saturday, 1205."

Tony checked his watch. "Landing in less than 20 minutes." Abby was already checking the flight schedule.

"Left from De Gaulle Airport. N. Bourdain is listed as a passenger."

"Any other calls to or from that number?"

She checked. "Five. First was to the number on Monday night, near midnight. Two more to the number, and then two from. Longest was three minutes."

"You ever hear McGee mention that name?"

"No. Who is he, Gibbs? And what does he have to do with…"

"Guess we better find out." Gibbs pulled her into a gentle hug before kissing her cheek. "Good work, Abbs. You gonna be OK?"

"No. Not until we find out what happened to Timmy."

"We will." After a nod from Gibbs Tony put the box on her work table. "See if you can find anything else that will help. Come on, DiNozzo."

"Coming, Boss." Tony gave Abby a hug and followed Gibbs to the elevator. He caught a glimpse of her standing in the lab, looking completely lost, just before the doors closed. He understood that feeling all too well.

Gibbs' driving and their badges got them to the gate just as the plane landed. Tony had printed a sign with the name and they waited for the passengers to disembark, hoping that the mysterious N. Bourdain would appear sooner rather than later. Several people glanced at the sign but none showed signs of recognition. Finally, just as Tony started to wonder if Bourdain had missed his flight, a lightly accented voice drew his attention.

"You are looking for me?"

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the appearance of the woman standing in front of them. A mass of coppery curls framed a heart shaped face with bright green eyes that stood out in contrast to her caramel-colored skin dusted with darker freckles. She was tiny, smaller than Bishop, dressed in worn and faded jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, a battered and stuffed knapsack swung over one shoulder. Tony thought at first she was a teenager but the small wrinkles around her eyes indicated she was older, although he wasn't sure by how much.

"Ms. Bourdain?" She hesitated slightly and then nodded, so Gibbs pulled out his ID to show it to her and Tony did the same. "Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, NCIS."

Her eyes widened. "You work with Tim, correct? Why did he not...oh. Oh, no…"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Bourdain, but he's-"

"No!" Her eyes blazed with anger. "Where is he? You have to take me to him at once!"

"He's...in our morgue."

She uttered something in another language but the intent was clear. "Call your M.E… Ducky, right? Call him and tell him he cannot do anything until I get there."

"How do you know about Ducky?"

"Just call him, please!"

Gibbs nodded to Tony and he reached for his phone, punching the number for Autopsy.

"Uh, Boss, he's not picking up."

"Try his cell."

Tony dialed another number and waited, finally getting an answer. "Ducky, it's Tony, I...what? The hospital, why?" Tony listened his eyes widening as he took in what the older man was saying. "OK. I...we'll be there soon." He slowly slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to Gibbs, his face ashen.

"Why's Duck at the hospital?"

"He, uh, took McGee there...about an hour ago." Tony let out a strangled chuckle. "Apparently he's...not dead after all."

" _What?"_ Gibbs turned to the woman, who looked distinctly relieved. "Did you know-?"

"Yes. Now we must get to him. Let us go." She started to march towards the exit and soon Gibbs and Tony were on her heels.

"How did you-?"

"I will explain later."

"But who _are_ you?" Tony asked, walking faster than he had expected to keep up.

She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a tight smile. "I am the one who is going to save your partner's life."

TBC…

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As a reviewer on another site pointed out, it's not all that likely that trained medical personnel would mistake someone for being dead, but, as Abby would say, there's definitely something hinky going on here ;) It will be addressed, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

Dead Man Walking

Chapter 3

 

"Stop!"

The woman halted mid-stride and turned to Gibbs as he and Tony caught up to her.

"What?"

"Are you going to tell us what the  _hell_  is going on?"

"That is not a topic for discussion in public. I will be happy to tell you once I have helped Tim."

"Help him  _how_? And how did you know-?"

"Agent DiNozzo, I will explain, but not here. I presume you have a car parked outside?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then let us go to it." She started walking again and after glancing at each other Gibbs and Tony followed her to the exit. Once they had reached the passenger pick-up area she paused and turned to Gibbs expectantly. They stared at each other for a few moments before Gibbs spun on one heel and headed for the car.

Once they reached the sedan and were seated inside Gibbs turned to the woman sitting in the back seat.

"OK, talk."

She sighed. "I am an old friend of Tim's. He called me when you found my cousin. He suspected this might be something in my area of expertise. I suspected what happened to Tim might happen so I got here as quickly as I could. Now, can we go help Tim?"

"Your 'area of expertise'? Is what, exactly?"

"Pharmacological toxicology."

"So he was poisoned?"

"In a manner of speaking. Now, may we please go to him? I have...an antidote."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

She just rolled her eyes. "As I told you, not in public. Now, please, take me to Tim."

"Why not in public?" Tony asked as Gibbs guided the sedan out of the parking lot and towards the exit. She just gave him a tight smile and remained silent. "OK, fine, but how did you know...I mean, why couldn't I tell Tim wasn't dead?"

"Better question: why didn't any of us notice, including Ducky?"

"Suggestion is a powerful thing."

"What do you mean?"

"You found Tim, Agent DiNozzo, correct?"

"Yeah, why?"

"OK. You had a case earlier where you found a man dead for no reason. That was no doubt on your mind when you found Tim. The poison he was given was designed to put him in a death-like state, but he would still be alive. The normal markers of life would be too faint for you to detect. It is not your fault."

"But the rest…?"

"The suggestion was in place for them as well, and they had no reason to doubt your assessment. It was a domino effect, of sorts...with a little additional help."

"What sort of help? Were we...I don't know, hypnotized or something?"

She laughed. "No, not exactly. However, I do not think you will believe the truth, at least not right now."

"My dead partner apparently came back to life. I think I'd believe anything at this point."

"Possibly, but there is much more to this than you currently know. It will take some time to...what is the phrase? 'Read you in'?"

"This is an  _op_?" Gibbs' glare in the mirror was ice-cold.

"No. It is, unfortunately, a very long story, and not all of it is mine to tell."

"What  _can_  you tell us?"

"The man who is behind the attack on Tim and the death of Maurice Saintilaire is known as Toussaint, although that is not the name he was given at birth."

"Did you tell Tim this?"

"He knew. He also knew there was no way to prove it."

"Did he know this guy was going after him?"

"I did warn him. He promised to be careful, but I am sure he did not realize just how...persistent this man can be after he identifies a target."

"How do you know this Toussaint is behind this?"

"Again, that is a long story. He would never leave evidence that you could trace back to him, and essentially it would be my word against his." Her expression darkened. "That is why I will deal with him."

"Not gonna happen."

She simply smiled and lapsed back into silence. Before either of the men could ask another question Gibbs' cell phone rang. He checked the number and answered.

"What do ya got, Abbs?"

" _Gibbs, I tried to find out more about this N. Bourdain person, and...it's all locked down. His information is very well protected. I couldn't even find his full name!"_

" _Her_ name, Abbs."

" _What? Oh, you found...her. What did she say? Does she know who...who did this to McGee?"_

"Yeah. See what you can find on a man named Toussaint."

" _Does he have a first name?"_

Gibbs glanced back at the woman and she shook her head. "No."

" _OK. Well, the name sounds French. Should I look-"_

"Haiti." Gibbs glanced at the woman again and she smiled and nodded.

" _Oh, of course, Saintilaire was from there, that makes sense."_

"Anything else?"

" _No, I...I've checked the stuff from Tim's apartment and I found prints, but they're all from stuff Tim would have touched, and…"_ They could hear the tears in her voice. " _I'm still working on it, Gibbs. I should get back to work."_

"Thanks, Abbs." He closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Why didn't you tell her, Boss? About McGee?"

"Because seeing is believing, Agent DiNozzo, and Agent Gibbs does not yet trust me to that extent."

"You got that right."

"So  _do_  you have a first name, Ms. Bourdain?"

"Of course."

"Care to share?"

"All in good time,  _mon ami_." She smiled and slipped back into silence for the remainder of the trip. When they got to the hospital they were directed to the diagnostic section and soon found Ducky and another doctor quietly arguing outside one of the rooms.

"What's going on, Duck?"

The M.E. turned to them, his smile brittle. "Dr. Appleton and I were just discussing the results of Timothy's MRI. It seems we still have unanswered questions, and are debating the next course of action." He raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of the woman with them. "And you are?"

"Dr. Bourdain. I need to see Agent McGee, immediately."

"I don't recall seeing your name on the list of approved doctor's at this hospital," Dr. Appleton snapped. She pulled a thin leather wallet from her pocket and opened it, raising it up for both of the doctors to see.

"I'm a specialist."

"A research toxicologist? How exactly-?"

"His room number, if you please."

"Follow me," Ducky offered and headed down the hallway, ignoring the sputtering protests of Dr. Appleton. The rest of the group immediately followed and soon Ducky stopped in front of one of the doors. "I recognized your name, Dr. Bourdain, and if this is what I suspect, then I believe you can help."

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard." She opened the door and stepped into the room, followed closely by Gibbs and Tony. Tim was lying on the bed, a thin blanket covering him to just above his waist. He was deathly pale, his eyes were closed and he had an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Several wires were attached to his bare chest and head, and while they could not discern that he was breathing, the monitor showed a very slow, very weak heartbeat.

Jimmy was sitting next to Tim's bed and looked up when they came in, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment when he saw the lead agent.

"Agent Gibbs, I...I am so sorry, I don't know how this happened..."

Gibbs ignored the stammering man and stared at the still form of his agent. If it hadn't been for the monitors he would have still believed that McGee was dead.

The sound of a zipper drew his attention and he turned to see the woman removing a flat case from her backpack. She opened the case and withdrew a somewhat familiar-looking object.

"An epipen? This is an allergic reaction?" Tony asked incredulously.

"No to the second question, but the pen provides a good means of transportation. And concealment." She walked over to the bed, leaned down and caressed Tim's cheek. "I am so sorry you had to go through this, Tim. I truly am."

"What are you doing?" Dr. Appleton demanded as he barged into the room. She ignored him as she brought the pen down hard onto Tim's upper arm and pushed the button.

The beeping on the heart monitor started to increase and as they watched the slow beat quickened and became stronger. Suddenly, Tim gasped and sat up, his eyes snapping open as he gazed wildly around the room, his breath coming in panicked gasps. The men all stumbled backward from the bed in shock as the woman grabbed Tim's arms and tried to stop them from flailing.

"Easy, Tim, easy. You are all right. It is over. Calm down. It is over. It is over."

Finally Tim seemed to register her words and he turned to face her, eyes wide and wet.

"N-nathalie?" His voice was barely discernable through the oxygen mask but she smiled and nodded as he reached up and pulled the mask from his face.

"I am sorry it took me so long to get here."

Tim surged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her before burying his face in her shoulder, his whole body trembling. She returned the hug, whispering soothing words in a language none of the rest understood, but they eventually seemed to calm Tim enough that his shaking subsided and he slowly released her.

"Thank you," he whispered as he sank back onto the bed.

"What in the hell did you give him?" Appleton demanded.

"The right thing, obviously," was her flippant reply as she stroked Tim's cheek with her thumb and wrapped her other hand around Tim's. Appleton sent her a glare as he stepped forward to speak to his patient.

"Agent McGee, I'm Dr. Appleton. I...well, I've been trying to figure out why you…were in the state you were in when you arrived." Tim nodded, his gaze flicking back and forth between the doctor and Nathalie. "Do you remember what happened?" A flash of terror crossed Tim's face and his grip on the woman's hand tightened. "OK, we'll leave that alone for now. I need to check you over, is that alright?" Tim gave a brief nod and the doctor began the exam.

When he was finished, he stepped back, confusion coloring his expression. "You seem to be fine now, Agent McGee, although…" He glanced at Nathalie. "I am really not sure how. We took some samples for testing and we're waiting on those results." He turned to Ducky. "I'm becoming more convinced that your theory is correct, Dr. Mallard, and we will test for the substances you mentioned. I will be back later. Please try to get some rest, Agent McGee."

"Thank you," he replied softly as the doctor left the room and closed the door behind him. They could all tell Tim was struggling to regain his composure as he turned his attention wearily to the group standing around his bed. "I'm sorry…"

Before anyone could respond, Tony strode up to McGee's bed and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Don't you ever, ever,  _ever_ do that to me again," Tony declared, his voice muffled against McGee's shoulder. Tim nodded and shakily raised his arms to return the hug. A few moments later they released each other and Tony stepped back, gently ruffling Tim's hair before placing a protective hand on Tim's shoulder.

"What theory?" Gibbs asked, finally breaking his silence. "You know what caused this, Duck?"

"I suspect, and I believe Dr. Bourdain will support my supposal, that Timothy somehow received, along with some other less potent toxins, a small dose of tetrodotoxin."

"Tetrodotoxin?" Jimmy asked, his shocked gaze still on McGee. "That's...from fugu, right?" He turned to Ducky. "All this happened because McGee ate some bad sushi?"

A soft chuckle drew their attention to the woman who had seemingly faded into the background.

"Not quite...Jimmy, is it?" He nodded, obviously surprised by her familiarity. "I am afraid it is far more complicated than that."

"So what did happen?" Gibbs asked, anger beginning to overtake worry in his tone as he turned to Tim. "And why didn't you tell me what was going on?"

A bit of color appeared in Tim's pale cheeks and he averted his gaze. "I didn't really think you'd believe me, Boss."

"If you're in danger, McGee, you tell me!"

"Yes, Boss. But I...I didn't expect...that he'd really come after me."

"Toussaint?" Tim's eyes widened and he nodded. "What did he do to you?"

"He, uh, well, someone…" He glanced at Nathalie and she nodded before turning to Gibbs.

"Tim was given a dose of  _coup poudre_. It is a mixture of natural toxins that is used to induce paralysis and a death-like state. Normally the victim is declared dead, buried, and revived with a second formulation which contains hallucinogens that makes them susceptible to the control of the one who revived them." She smiled. "Obviously the antidote I used is much more humane."

"Why would someone  _do_  that?" Jimmy asked with revulsion.

"It is an intimidation tool; the threat of such a fate and the belief in the ability of someone to wield it can be used for gaining control over a susceptible group of people. It can be used to gain a source of cheap labor." Her lips twisted into a rueful smile. "Of course, it is also used for revenge."

"Revenge? Why does this Toussaint guy want revenge against McGee?"

"He does not, at least not specifically." She sent Tim a regretful look and he squeezed her hand weakly in return. "Tim was likely to be, for lack of a better term, collateral damage."

"So Toussaint tried to use Tim to get to someone else? Who?"

Nathalie remained silent for a few moments before she sighed and met Gibbs' angry gaze.

"Me."

TBC...


End file.
